Never say, never

It's a much-loved figure of speech: I would never...fill in the blank.

As in I would never eat Rocky Mountain Oysters.

Or miss a deadline.

Or share a room in Paris with a 21-year-old Jimmy Hendrix fan.

Or drive a truck

Or work at home alone with dirty hair.

Or wash a man's underwear.

Or give up cheese.

Or...cut my knitting.

We say these things convinced of our own fortitude or strength of character or life circumstances. So the universe mocks us. By taking our "nevers" and serving them up on china plates.

Last night, for example, I happily cut two inches off the fronts of my Habu cardi with nary a second thought. For whatever reason--stupidity, sloppy measuring, miscellaneous personal failing--the fronts of my cardigan were longer than the back. Having broached this "never" before, I didn't even think twice. Snip, snip, snip. I picked up the stitches, knit to the appropriate length and bound off. All better.

Try it sometime. It's very freeing.

I can't say I feel the same way about washing a man's underwear.

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